Thanks to everybody who reviewed the Prologue, I was so surprised and delighted with the response! Here's the first real chapter - it's not the best but I'm just trying to get the story going (you know yourself)! Keep reviewing and thanks again to everyone who put this story in their favourites or reviewed - you guys made my day! (seriously)
By the way, I have a new Meet the Author page so feel free to ask any questions! Enough waffling, here's the chapter! (",)

I eventually leave the bathroom after many tears and attempts to prove the damned pregnancy test wrong. I know I have to tell someone and there is only one person that I'd even consider telling – Teddy. He would know just what to do in a crisis situation such as the one I’m having. Although, having said that, he's just as likely to kick Scorpius’ arse as James and Al.

I suppose technically I should probably tell Scorpius first.

But something at the back of my mind tells me to keep it from him for as long as possible. After all, we've barely ever spoken.

Then how, I hear you ask, do I find myself pregnant with his child?

Well, it’s a mixture of Firewhiskey and revenge. As most pregnancies are.

It’s almost two months ago that James decided to throw a massive party in the Gryffindor common room in aid of his eighteenth birthday. It was the usual business – non-explodable balloons (that people tried to burst anyway), the entire stock of Honeydukes chocolate, Butterbeer, Firewhiskey, food of all sorts from the Hogwarts kitchens and of course, a guest list longer than the last population census. And it wasn’t just Gryffindors either. James’ brother, Al, is in Slytherin so he and all of his friends were invited to the party. The Gryffindor tower password was changed and everyone who was anyone was able to come.

Among Al’s Slytherin friends was Scorpius Malfoy, who is his best friend - unfortunately. He’s a handsome one, with blonde hair that falls right into his brown eyes. He’s quite tall and is the seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. I’m keeper on the Gryffindor team – well, I am for now. I doubt the broom will be able to get off the ground in three months time.

It’s odd that I may never hear the delightful sound of “Weasley Is Our Queen” echoing from the Quidditch stands when I save a goal ever again.

Anyway, back to Scorpius. Like I was saying, he's handsome. But he's not irresistibly gorgeous or anything. He gets the odd spot here and there like every teenage boy. Still, he's a damn sight better than some of the mutants Hogwarts has to offer. But Scorpius and I never really got on with one another. It wasn’t that we fought or anything, there was just some sort of mutual dislike between us. This is why I now find myself very shocked to be carrying his spawn.

Back to James's party.

Earlier that day, my sort-of-boyfriend Carl had broken up with me in front of the entire school. Yes, the entire school. It didn’t just feel like the entire school. It was the entire school.

It was in the middle of dinner that Carl stood up from the Ravenclaw table and shouted over to the Gryffindor one:

“Oi! Rose! I don’t think we should go out anymore!”

He was a complete prick. James and Al offered to beat him up but I told them to leave it. I hexed him while he was kissing Chastity Finch, a girl in my year, later that day.

Chastity had a nice laugh at that one. She even high fived me. Lovely girl.

Nobody breaks up with Rose Weasley in front of the whole school.

Although Carl had indeed received his comeuppance, I was still pissed off when the time came for James’ party. And I sought comfort in the first drunken idiot I found – Malfoy. He spun the usual crap blokes spin about how I was “too good for Carl” and “he doesn’t know how lucky he was” to have me.

Blah blah blah.

But for some reason, the lines worked on me. They never worked before, but I was taken-aback that the boy who blatantly ignored me since we were first years was now talking to me, comforting me, flirting with me. And before I knew it, we were kissing.

And he was a good kisser. I can still remember how good he was – that’s saying something, because I can barely remember what age I am most of the time.

Then, the next thing I knew, we were in my dormitory, awkwardly tearing each others clothes off. I remember feeling so nervous, but not being able to stop what was happening. It was as if there was an animal instinct part of me completely overshadowing my common sense and reason. At the time, I wasn’t even thinking about the precautions that should be taken before having sex. I mean, I never had sex before. But apparently Malfoy knew what he was doing so I let him take the lead.

But I regret that now.

We didn’t speak again after that out of sheer awkwardness. We both agreed not to tell anyone – I think we were both feeling the shame of what had just happened. And so, after that night, we went back to our usual ignoring of each other.

Of course, that’s going to be significantly harder now that I’m having his baby.

I sit in the common room reading a book about death. I feel like it's me waiting to succumb to my terrible fate. But dying seems like it would be so much simpler.

Dom comes in through the portrait hole with her bag slung over her shoulder. She sits down beside me, flicks her strawberry blonde hair back and whips out a packed of Honeydukes’ finest jellies. She points the packet at me, silently offering me one. I shake my head. She sighs and looks at me with the familiar look in her eye – she wants gossip. I sigh back to tell her that I have none. She nods knowingly. She slaps her knee, picks up her bag and stalks off up to the dormitory.

And I realise that I’ve just had a completely silent conversation with my cousin.

That happens quite often, come to think of it.

It’s been three days and six hours since I took that pregnancy test. In the past three days and six hours, I have cried a total of fifty three times. It really does take just the smallest things to set me off.

“Hey Red,” says James as we sit in the common room doing homework.

“Why do you hate me so much?!” I scream and run from the common room, out the portrait hole leaving a very frightened James behind me.

I walk through the castle, waiting to find someone breaking a small rule so I can punish them. I shine my prefect badge with my sleeve, as if fingerprints will make it less intimidating.

“Excuse me?” says a small Hufflepuff girl, “I can’t find the North Tower!”

Perfect.

“Oh can’t you? Then that’s ten points from Hufflepuff!”

The girl looks on the verge of tears and I swear to Merlin’s mother if she starts crying I will kick her in the face. She has nothing to be upset about. She runs off covering her face with her hands.

Yeah, you better run. My mother would be so ashamed of me. I'm not supposed to abuse my power as prefect. Then again, I probably wasn't supposed to sleep with Scorpius Malfoy. I'd say that's what Dad was implying when he told me not to get "too close" to him on my very first day at Hogwarts.

I head downstairs towards the kitchens to give out to the House Elves for being so short when I bump into Al. He looks a bit flustered, but in a happy way.

I suppose that is the only thing that can cheer me up. Teddy Lupin is my number one confidant – I know I could tell him about my pregnancy and he wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone, not even Victoire. And when I’m at home I don’t run the risk of bumping into the father of my child.

Which is always a plus.

“And Scorpius is coming to our house for Christmas!” says Al.

My heart stops beating.

That’s the end of that.

“W-why?”

Al rambles on about Scorpius’ parents going to Brussels…or maybe he said they were arseholes…I’m not really listening. The prospect of having to spend Christmas with Scorpius Malfoy is enough to make anyone pass out. I walk away from Al while he’s in the middle of a sentence and then break into a run towards Flitwick’s office.

Headmaster Flitwick is sitting behind his desk on what must be three cushions so that he can see out over the top of it – he’s about as small as the House Elves I was about to give out to. But I decide it’s probably best not to give out to the headmaster when you’re looking for a favour.

“Professor, I was wondering if it’s too late to put my name down to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays?” I ask.

Flitwick looks up from his notes as if just realising that I am here.

“Oh, hello Miss Weasley!”

“Hello,” I say, trying to be polite.

Flitwick hums away to himself and I repeat the question I’ve just asked.

I can’t think quickly enough so now I am being forced to go home with the rest of my family. Sometimes I wish you were allowed to curse the tiny eyebrows off the school headmaster.

But we don’t always get what we wish for, do we?

I get up early the next day and although my trunk is already packed, I do a quick scan of the dorm for anything I may have forgotten. I think about doing another pregnancy test before going home to break the news to Mum and Dad, but I know there’s no point – I’m pregnant for sure. The never-ending vomiting at 6am this morning confirms that.

I don’t really speak much at breakfast. Nobody seems to notice – James and Fred are talking enough for everyone at the Gryffindor table.

“Chudley Cannons are way better than Tornados,” James yells at our cousin, food spraying from his mouth – such an attractive family I have.

“Chudley Cannons are muck!” Fred splutters back, not noticing that there are crumbs in his jet-black hair from where James sprayed his breakfast on him.

All the other Gryffindors are watching James and Fred arguing about their favourite Quidditch teams – I suppose I have to agree with James, though. Dad has been dressing me in Chudley Cannons’ jerseys since I was born. I’m not allowed to support other teams.

“Red, you’ll back me on this?” says James, as all attention turns to me.

I look from James to Fred, their eyes digging into mine.

“Sorry Fred,” I say, “but I’m a born Cannon. But James, shouldn’t you be a Harpies fan?”

James goes slightly red but shrugs his shoulders and continues to wolf down his breakfast. Of course he doesn’t support the Holyhead Harpies – they’re an all women’s team. But my Aunt Ginny, James’ mum, used to play on that team before James was born, so you’d sort of expect him to support them.

But no.

Because James is a strange individual.

After breakfast, we make our way down to Hogsmeade Station to catch the Hogwarts Express. I try my best to walk ahead of Al and Scorpius, so Dom runs to catch up with me.

I give her an apologetic look, but I don’t slow down until I reach the train. I have it all planned out in my head – I’ll get a compartment with Dom, Molly, Lucy, Louis, Hugo and Lily and the rest can go somewhere else. Thus, the first step in “Operation-Avoid-Blondie”.

But unfortunately, it doesn’t work out that way.

Because nothing seems to be going to plan for me these days.

The third and fourth years Lily, Louis, Roxanne and Hugo decide to sit in a separate carriage with some of their friends. Lucy is sitting with some of her first year friends. None of my sixth year friends are going home for Christmas, so guess who I end up sharing with?

Al, James, Fred, Dom, Molly and of course, Scorpius.

At first, it’s not really too awkward. James and Fred are continuing their argument from the breakfast table and Scorpius and Al join in – apparently Al is a Cannons fan and Scorpius is a follower of the Wimbourne Wasps. Dom supports the French team Quiberon Quafflepunchers and Molly doesn’t care for organised sports. Or any kind of sport. She really is so very like her father, Uncle Percy.

But when the Quidditch talk is over, there’s an unwelcome silence in the compartment. I wish someone would break it as it’s making me uncomfortable. I try and think of something to say to break it, but nothing comes to me. I’m really bad at starting conversations.

“Pull my finger,” says Fred.

Okay, perhaps the silence was better.

It’s dark by the time the Hogwarts Express pulls up at Platform 9 ¾. Dad, Uncle Harry, Aunt Angelina, Uncle Bill and Uncle Percy are there to pick us all up. I run to Dad, giving him a big “I’m-still-your-little-girl-even-though-I’m-pregnant” hug. Hugo barely acknowledges our father – perhaps he’s going through his “too cool for parents” phase.

Uncle Harry grins at me and I return the smile to my godfather. Little Moody Hugo just glares.

The whole way home in the car, Dad tries to make conversation with me and Hugo, but his attempts are futile. Hugo deliberately ignores every remark Dad makes at him, while I, in an effort to keep on his good side, mumble every now and again. I figure that when I break the news to my parents about my pregnancy, Dad will be the only thing keeping Mum from murdering me. So I better keep him sweet.

When we pull up outside our house, I observe that my heart is beating much faster than usual. I know Mum will guess there’s something wrong with me within two minutes of my arrival – she’s very perceptive. I could have a nine year old child and Dad wouldn’t notice, but Mum has a sixth sense and seems to be an excellent mind reader. Maybe she’s an accomplished Legilimens – I make a mental note to ask her.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table doing some “Important Ministry Work” and when she spots us, she jumps up and hugs Hugo first. He pushes her off and storms upstairs to his bedroom. Mum looks momentarily taken-aback and runs a hand through her chestnut brown hair. She looks at Dad who shrugs as if to say “just leave him”. Mum then turns to me, hugs me and pulls away, but keeps hold of my shoulders.

“Have you been eating properly Rose?” she asks, “You’re too thin!”

Not in a few months I won’t be.

Oops, better not think like that in case she is a Legilimens.

“Of course, Mum,” I say. She raises an eyebrow at me, but luckily Dad has just said something about work so she turns her attentions to him.

I sneak out of the kitchen and upstairs to my bedroom. As I’m passing Hugo’s room I hear some very angry death metal music blaring from it.